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- Written by: Don Goulding
Whatever you are doing, work at it with enthusiasm, as to the Lord and not for people, because you know that you will receive your inheritance from the Lord as the reward. (Colossians 3:23, 24)
Rick and Rachael work for ministries in opposite corners of the world. Rick came out of retirement as the school principal in his home town. Now he serves as the janitor. His secret occupation is prayer warrior over the students, teachers and their rooms. As he polishes floors, he routs demons and builds foundations of redemption through the zeal of the Holy Spirit.
Rachael is a missionary in the South Pacific islands. She complains about the locals and toils to curb their immorality. “I don’t think she likes us,” is how Rachael’s nationals summarize her work. Rachael counts the days to retirement.
Who has the more fulfilling job, Rick the janitor or Rachael the missionary? The point of this real life comparison is that what honors God is how we go about whatever task he gives us. He wants us to do everything in fellowship with him, moving in his Spirit.
In my pride, I often think God needs my service for him. I’m a child who shows up with his plastic sandbox shovel to help dig the Panama Canal. It’s ridiculous to think God needs my help. Yet he lets me dig beside him because it brings him joy that I want to work in his presence.
I can be Rick and store treasure in paradise, or I can be Rachael and receive the vain recognition of others as my only reward. Regardless of my corner of the world, I have to choose how I work, like Rick or like Rachael.
Prayer: Tender Father, I love working alongside you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.
With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph. (Psalms 77:14, 15) (NIV)
“If you only look for the Holy Spirit in the supernatural, you’ll miss ninety percent of what he’s doing,” my mentor said. His wisdom came from serving as a missionary in Africa for fifty years.
I used to think that a miracle, if I ever saw one, would be accompanied by heavenly sparks and angelic choirs. I didn’t think I would ever see one. Then one day I did.
I drove my children to an appointment and the slip of paper with the address went missing. We pulled to the roadside and searched everywhere, even under the floor mats. My eight-year-old daughter wanted to pray, so we closed our eyes.
“Jesus, please help us find the note so we’re not late.”
We opened our eyes, and the paper lay at her feet. No psychedelic colors or singing, just the paper. We drove on like nothing unusual happened.
I’ve begun to recognize that God can and does work with dramatics, but his favorite medium is to integrate into the common—a sacrificial ram caught in the thicket for Abraham, a soggy fleece to give Gideon courage, the King of the Universe born in a sheep manger. These events teach us to expect God’s intervention in any circumstance.
In Africa we asked for a miracle of the first order, so the churches would come together to launch revival. We organized prayer and put up posters. There were no angelic invasions or tongues of fire, but people filed in until the largest meeting ever held in the history of Doma, Zimbabwe was for the purpose of lifting up Jesus Christ.
Miracles are common in the common.
Prayer: Lord, bring your power into every corner of my average life.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For a person is not a Jew who is one outwardly, nor is circumcision something that is outward in the flesh, but someone is a Jew who is one inwardly, and circumcision is of the heart by the Spirit … (Romans 2:28, 29)
“Please share some words at our haircutting ceremony for Mary Rani.” My ministry partner held his hand on the curly head of a timid five-year-old girl as he invited me to speak.
A hundred beaming friends gathered beneath a scalloped canopy in Nellore, India. The dark of night hides India’s dilapidation and transforms it into a festival of strung flowers and garden lights. No one could tell us why children have their hair shorn, or what words should be said on such an occasion. They only knew it was a right of passage out of infancy.
Cultural neanderthal that I am, I pronounced the girl’s name as “Biryani,” which is a famous Indian rice dish. As the crowd laughed, I held the soft ringlets, Dani clipped the first locks from the precious lamb, and the Holy Spirit passed some appropriate words into my heart.
“We cut this child’s hair as a sign that the one thing she might take pride in, her beautiful hair, is to be humbled—circumcised if you will—before her God. Nothing in Mary Rani’s life should ever be treasured above him.”
As Mary Rani walked about with her deer like eyes, and shaved to the scalp, an important truth settled into both of us. If we allow it, our pride will focus on gifts from God more than on him. Temporarily foregoing the gift lets us worship the Giver without distraction.
Pride is a weed whose roots won’t be pulled until the end of time. In the interim, I must scissor off its growth every day. Thank you, Mary Rani, for that much needed reminder.
Prayer: Holy Father, cut my heart into pieces that will submit to you.